A Thousand Deaths
by RoyalHeather
Summary: Fire is coming. And it threatens to burn everything. It's up to Murtagh to stop it, but in doing so, will he lose what he waited so long to gain? Sequel to Eyes Like Fire, Hair Like Rain. Murtagh/OC romance.
1. The fires of the righteous

The dreamspace Thorn had shared with Mirren had been like her – bright, clean, calm. Garnandr's world was like him, too, only this Eldunari, mightiest after Mirren's, had created a space of dark rocks and jagged peaks, where Thorn never smelled any rain fall from the sky but had felt his scales grow slick with wet all the same. When Garnandr had pulled Thorn in – him and the other Eldunari and Faarheim and Firnen and Rarna – his gut reaction had been to hate it because no, it wasn't supposed to be like this. But he'd adjusted, and quickly, too. Which was good, because he had bigger things to worry about than scenery.

_We can't take chances,_ growled Garnandr. He'd perched himself on the highest spur of rock he could find. _Not with this big a threat._

Sunset-orange Rarna, curled up to Thorn's left, said serenely, _There are better ways of dealing with things than killing a stripling Rider and his dragon –_

_ We don't kill dragons! _snarled Anitha – an Eldunari, faded lavender, and thin and wiry as a dried vine. _Not now. Not ever._

_ But when it is predicted that a Rider, and possibly his dragon, could destroy _all _of us –_

_We don't – kill – DRAGONS! _Anitha rounded on Garnandr, glaring at him out of her good eye. He stared haughtily back.

_Foretelling isn't proof, _said Thorn. _We don't even have real evidence, this is all based off of _diction. _What happens if you kill Lane and Kadi, and the fire _still_ comes? How will you defend yourselves then?_

_Bah. _Hakuin, bitter charcoal gray, spoke for the first time. _You are blinded by your Riders' affections._

_ This has nothing to do with Murtagh, _growled Thorn. He could feel the urge to hurt, to rage, swelling, tingling in his paws. _This is my decision. And I say no._

The lines were pretty clearly divided, when he looked at it. Most of the Eldunari – Garnandr, Hakuin, and Eveda, along with the dwarf-ridden Faarheim – thought the prudent option would be to kill Lane and Kadi. The rest of the bodied dragons – Thorn, Firnen, and urgal-ridden Rarna – had been joined by Anitha in protest of that plan.

_We don't have to kill Kadi. _The pleading in the brown dragon's voice was for Firnen, who refused to look at his sometimes-partner. _Then we won't be killing a dragon._

_ Oh? And then what happens when Kadi loses his soulmate? Oh, we won't have anything to deal with then!_

Faarheim flicked his tail against the acid in Anitha's voice. _It was just a suggestion,_ he muttered, shuffling his feet.

_A stupid one,_ she snapped.

_Lay off him! _Firnen jumped to his feet, snarling, jagged with anger, and Anitha whipped around to face him with a hiss.

_Oh, sure, defend him, we all know you two f-k each other every chance you get –_

Thorn sighed and closed his eyes, trying _very hard_ to still the clamoring fire in his belly. Patience, all he needed was a little patience…

Another mind touched his, on a quieter level than Anitha and Firnen's snarling. Thorn recognized it as Rarna's. _What is it?_

_ They don't really have much say in the matter,_ she said. _The Eldunari. They can't do much without bodies…_

_ If they combined their mental efforts, they might be able to…take control, possibly… It's a long shot, but if they're desperate enough…_

Anitha and Firnen were now on the rocky ground, circling each other with raised hackles and bared teeth.

_Would they really do that?_

_ If they were desperate enough, maybe…_

With a hissing screech, Anitha launched herself at Firnen, tumbling the two of them into the cliff face with a resounding _crack._ Faarheim, the useless waste of a dragon, was crouched above them, tail swishing in consternation, and Garnandr was leaning down from his post to roar at the two combatants.

Thorn sighed and looked at Rarna. She had large, round eyes like deep copper lakes. _How do you do it?_

She turned her wedge-shaped head towards him in surprise. _Do what?_

_ Stay calm. You're always so tranquil. _

Rarna chuckled, adjusting her wings. _It's just who I am. _

Garnandr waded into the fray, attempting to drag Anitha away by the scruff of her neck. She shrieked and raked talons down his neck with a sound like nails on glass.

_ENOUGH!_ The bellow exploded out of Thorn, pushing him to his feet, reverberating in his lungs and on the rocky mountainsides. The three grappling dragons snapped their heads towards him. _This ends right now! Lane and Kadi are under _my_ protection, and anyone who harms them will answer to me! _He swung his head around, glaring, making sure he looked each dragon in the eye. _Is that clear?_

_ Is that how you speak to us, _hatchling? hissed Hakuin, snaking down to Thorn's level. _We were ancient before you were born._

_You're not the first dragon to tell me that,_ said Thorn. _And now he doesn't have a body either. _

Hakuin was taller than him. Thorn looked straight into his onyx eyes and didn't blink._ Just remember,_ said Hakuin at last, _when this trouble is on you…remember what you said today. And don't crawl to us for help._

It felt like something hot and bitter was rippling through his gut. But Thorn had decades of practice hiding his anger, and he remained as still as the rock he was standing on.

_I don't crawl, _he said.


	2. Will always burn

Murtagh, seated on the ledge by his house, sighed in the bright sunlight. Torrens and Ampora were leading the three junior riders through aerial manoeuvers. Lane and Kadi were neither doing spectacularly well nor spectacularly bad, but Murtagh found his eyes trailing them all the same.

Beside him, Thorn gave a great snort and twitched in his sleep. Murtagh looped an arm behind Thorn's skull and scratched aimlessly. His scales in direct sunlight were nearly searing to the touch.

Thorn twitched again, upper lip lifting in a snarl. Sighing, Murtagh let his hand hang limp and stared out at the ocean. Somehow, to him, it still didn't make sense that Lane would be the author of their destruction. He was just a boy, a somewhat unexceptional one at that. Though his mother would beg to differ, of course…

Aedela. Murtagh's hand clenched into an uncomfortable fist. He hadn't told her about his and Thorn's revelation; actually, after he'd joined her in the bath that morning there hadn't been much chance for talking anyway. But even afterwards – when he'd returned from placing Mirren's Eldunari at the Stone of Broken Eggs, when they'd spent the rest of the day and all that night together, when he'd said goodbye the next morning – he couldn't bring it up. He simply couldn't. How did he even _begin_ to find the right words?

_Sorry, love, but I think your only son is someday going to end us all in horrible fiery deaths. _

Thorn growled again in his sleep. Murtagh looked down at him fondly and resumed his scratching. The growth spells were an ongoing success – Thorn's head was bigger than Murtagh's whole body now.

With a grunt, Thorn opened his eyes, pupils automatically contracting against the bright sunlight. _Well, that was interesting, _he snorted.

Murtagh didn't have a clue what he was talking about. _Huh?_

_ Adventures with the Eldunari._ Thorn shifted, scraping off flakes of slate. _Let's just say some of them aren't happy with letting Lane and Kadi live._

Something dark and bitter started gnawing under Murtagh's collarbone. _Bastards._

Thorn grunted, resting his chin on his crossed paws. _Agreed. _

Irritated, Murtagh leaned back on his hands. _Whatever. It's not like they can do anything about it._

Thorn lifted one mountain of a shoulder in a shrug. _If they combine their mental energies, they could…nudge things. _

Nudge _things?_ Murtagh whipped his head towards Thorn, eyes narrowed. _How d'you mean, _nudge?

_ I mean they could get into his head and…influence him towards certain actions,_ said Thorn.

_Like throwing himself off a cliff,_ said Murtagh, teeth gritted. _Sick bastards._

_Once again, I concur._

Murtagh continued to stare at the flying dragons without really seeing them. That was just…wrong. On multiple levels.

_Should we tell him? _asked Thorn.

_Lane?_ Tapping his fingers against the rock, Murtagh bit his lip, deliberating. _Wouldn't that be dangerous? By warning him…might we actually be planting the seed for his future actions?_

_ Or by making him aware of one possible future, averting it,_ said Thorn. _We can't know how events will unfold._

_ Exactly, _said Murtagh. _Why hang that over him when – when… _He sighed. _Imagine, Thorn, if when we were that young someone had told us what we would be –_

_ When we were that young we were fighting for Galbatorix and both of us knew we would have to die, _growled Thorn. _No one is ever protected by ignorance._

Murtagh didn't have an answer for that.


	3. And turn us on each other

And yet, somehow, the years passed.

The years passed, and Lane remained…average. Or at least, as average as a Rider could be. Thorn kept an eye on Kadi and he was developing into a somewhat-erratic-but-otherwise-normal dragon. Other things progressed as well. Aedela began to show signs of wanting to leave Ellesmera and live with Murtagh at the Academy. More eggs hatched. Arya made another trip to the east and reported that all was well with Eragon and Saphira. King Ajihad IV was crowned. The dwarven clans were threatening civil war again – half wanted to abolish the idea of a monarchy permanently, the other half, predictably, didn't.

And so – six years after Murtagh had watched Lane bond with Kadi – the entire Academy and numerous relations gathered for the official graduation of Ellit and Sonorm, Tavis and Habadr, and Lane and Kadi.


	4. Until we learn

Murtagh was in the air with Thorn when he felt Aedela's spike of shock and almost-panic. Thorn felt it too and stopped dead, wings beating out a pulse as Murtagh tuned into Aedela's mind. _Love?_

It took her a while to respond, and when she did she sounded strange, restrained, as if hiding some powerful emotion. _Murtagh, can – can you come down here?_

_ Sure thing, love,_ he said, painfully aware of the rapid pounding of his heart. _I'll be there in a second._

Thorn wheeled around and sped towards their house like an arrow. _I'm sure she's fine,_ he said. _If something were wrong or she needed urgent help she would have said so right away…_

_ Yeah…_ But reason did nothing against rapid heartbeats and sick apprehension. Murtagh realized his hands were trembling and clenched them around a leather strap.

Spreading his wings, Thorn swooped to a halt on the landing ledge. His great claws had barely touched stone before Murtagh threw himself out of the saddle and rushed into the house. "Aedela?"

"In here," she called, and Murtagh dashed through the study, down the stairs, and into their bedroom. There she was, sitting on their bed, feet tucked under her, hair dusky silver in the dim room.

Murtagh was at her side in a heartbeat, taking her face in his hands. "What is it? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." She smiled, and the all tension swept out of him like a tidal wave.

Sighing, he tipped his forehead against hers, eyes closed, not knowing whether to be relieved or angry. "Then what is it? What happened?"

"I – well…" Aedela reached a hand up to his, and he realized her fingers were shaking as well. Frowning, Murtagh opened his eyes and drew away enough to read her expression. Her eyebrows were pulled up in what looked like worry, but the smile spreading across her face was genuine.

"Aedela, love…" Murtagh ran a hand down her shoulder, noticed that the window curtains were closed, her hair was wet, and she'd wrapped herself in one of his robes – she must have been bathing. "What is it?"

She took a deep, shaky breath. "Murtagh, I'm… I'm pregnant!"

Oh.

Yes.

_What?_

"I – say that again?"

"I'm pregnant." Aedela drew herself up straight, placed her hands on either side of his neck. "I was in the bath, just now, and I…I _felt _it, I could just tell, it's exactly the same as when I had Lane…" She looked him in the eyes and Murtagh could feel a faint thread of fierceness gathering around her. "Well?"

"Just – just give me a second to wrap my head around this, love…" Murtagh rested a hand on her waist and stared at his knees, processing. Pregnant. A child. _His _child. All right…he could deal with this…

_After ten years it's about damn time you two had a kid._

_Jesus Christ, Thorn!_

Murtagh looked back to Aedela to find she was watching him with slightly pursed lips. Her defensiveness stemmed from his reaction, he realized – however she'd imagined him, it hadn't been like this –

"Oh, love," said Murtagh, taking her face in his hands and smiling. "I am _very, very_ pleased." Aedela beamed in return and tipped her forehead against his, and he kissed her.

Inside, he was panicking.

_Thorn! What – how do I – how – baby – what –_

Thorn's chuckle, deep and comforting, resounded in the corners of his mind. _Don't worry, Murtagh. I'm sure you'll be fine._


	5. To harness the power

Murtagh stroked back Aedela's sweaty hair and placed a kiss on her temple. "There you go, love. Rest now."

"Don't even start." Aedela turned her head to look at him wearily, and Murtagh chuckled and tucked her under his arm.

Sighing, Aedela slumped against him, but her eyes were fixed on the other side of the room, where the midwife and her two assistants were gathered around a tiny squalling bundle…

There was a loud protest from the baby, some murmuring and cooing, and then the midwife turned around with the baby all wrapped up, a smile creasing her face. Aedela struggled upright, arms extended.

"Here you go." The midwife placed Baby in Aedela's arms and she hugged him to her chest like he was made of spun glass, face transformed with tenderness. Murtagh looked down at the baby and found himself marveling at how tiny he was, how infinitely flawless. His skin was pearl-perfect, and his hands and his funny little nose and the pools of his cheeks –

"Look at his _ears,_" said Murtagh, delighted, running a finger over the shell-tip point of one of them. Aedela kissed his downy tuft of silver hair, laughed softly when Baby made a burbling noise.

Thorn pushed his head in through an open window; Murtagh could feel both his bemused fascination and avuncular pride. Smiling, Murtagh ran a finger along the side of Baby's cheek, and when Baby actually turned his head towards the touch a joy so deep it was almost painful swelled up inside Murtagh.

"Lane," called Aedela, silvery voice transparent with happiness, "come meet your brother."

Lane pushed the door open, pointed face stretched by a broad grin, and tiptoed to the other side of the bed. "Hey, look at you," he said, and brushed delighted fingers over the top of Baby's head.

Thorn went rigid for a brief second, something flashing through his mind. Murtagh looked at him and saw his pupils had contracted to slits. _… Thorn?_

Lane sank onto the bed, making baby noises at his new sibling, and Aedela kissed them both.

With a grunt, Thorn shook his head. _It's nothing._

_Don't lie to me, Thorn, it doesn't work._

_I'm not. It's nothing. _He blinked slowly once, twice, and looked reassuringly at Murtagh.

Murtagh was not convinced.

_Thorn…_

_Really, it's nothing. Dragon stuff. _Thorn winked at him. _Nothing I can't handle. A couple of our dragonets, though, will soon be learning a thing or two about hormones. _

Murtagh repressed a snort. _Where are they?_

_The dragonets are in the mountains, one Rider's in the kitchen, the other's asleep. I think we're good. _

_All right. _Murtagh had better things to occupy his mind than copulating dragons. _Well, just…_

_I know._ Thorn's entire mind softened as he returned his attention to the baby, and Murtagh looked back down at his son –

His_ son._

"So, do we have a name yet?" asked Lane.

It wasn't until many hours later that they decided on Aidan.


	6. Of our distinction

Thorn waited until Murtagh had greeted his son to look in through the open window. There they were, Murtagh and Aedela and their small offspring – Thorn marveled not so much at its size, a hatchling wasn't much bigger often, but at its absolute helplessness. It was so small, so weak, even _he_ wanted to protect it. The room was a medley of smells, blood and sweat and the earthiness of midwives, Aedela's clean rain-scent and Murtagh's mix of leather and musk, and the tiny spot of newness that was the baby…

"Lane," sang Aedela, "come meet your brother."

Lane entered the room, still not quite finished into a man, beaming. "Hey, look at you," he said, and touched the baby on its head –

FIRE screamed through Thorn's head, FIRE FIRE FIRE and it was hot and it was blazing and –

And gone. Thorn, rigid, took a second to get a grip on _what the hell just happened –_

_Thorn?_ Murtagh had noticed _something _had happened, but didn't know what…

Thorn grunted and shook his head, clearing his mind. _It's nothing._

_Don't lie to me, Thorn, it doesn't work._

_I'm not. _He was, and he never had before, but even if there was a right time to tell Murtagh this it wasn't now. _It's nothing._ He blinked slowly and looked at Murtagh, who was still evidently worried.

_Thorn…_

_Really, it's nothing. Dragon stuff._ _Nothing I can't handle. _Thorn winked, trying to be casual, pursued the first train of dissemblance he thought of. _A couple of our dragonets, though, will soon be learning a thing or two about hormones. _

The tense lines disappeared from around Murtagh's mouth. _Where are they?_

It was easy, too easy, to come up with false information, and it made something squirm sickly inside Thorn's stomach but what choice did he have? _The dragonets are in the mountains, one Rider's in the kitchen, the other's asleep. I think we're good. _

_All right._ _Well, just…_

Thank goodness Murtagh had his small child to distract him. _I know. _Thorn looked at the baby as well, and despite what he'd just seen he could still feel himself growing warm with the urge to protect. Funny, wasn't it, he'd never felt this way about hatchlings…

"So, do we have a name yet?" asked Lane.

It didn't take long for them to be completely engrossed in the decision. Thorn waited until he was sure Murtagh wouldn't note his absence, and then backed away from the window.

He wanted to talk to Rarna, he realized, getting enough space between him and the house so he could open his wings. He wanted her calm confidence, the assurance of her advice. But she was halfway across the world for all he could speak to her.

Air whispered over his wings, tickling the membrane, and Thorn flexed his pectorals, drawing his back legs under him. With a grunt he launched himself into the air, thighs straining against all his weight, and pushed _down_ with every muscle in his wings. He'd barely cleared the ground before he beat his wings again until –

Sudden _lift_ caught him and he flapped again, soaring upwards, propelling himself through the air. He'd never get tired of this, never, the push and pull of muscle, the sheer physicality of flight. Higher and higher he soared, until all the Academy was a pawprint beneath him, nestled against the salty blue sweep of the ocean. Thorn banked, drifting, feeling wind currents tickle the edges of his wings and whisper over his scales. Finding a thermal, he let it carry him downward in a slow, lazy, spiral…

Opening his mouth slightly, Thorn inhaled, drawing in the swirl of cold water, dusty pine, mixed colors of dragon… He could taste salty-sweetness and curled back his upper lip, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to get a clearer smell. Interesting. A female dragonet was in heat after all.

He noted her location – deep in the forest – and soared towards the sea, hitting another thermal. There had been fire, he remembered – fire when Lane touched the baby, fire in his mind, fire that seared like pepper and hot coals. Thorn grunted uneasily, a thin cold worm of doubt curled up in his stomach. He didn't like it, didn't like the connection, and above all didn't like lying to Murtagh. But he was unsure of what to make of this. Nothing in it said _Respond_; it was only a vague threat, a promise of destruction, unsure, unformed…

_You are upset,_ said Garnandr.

_It's nothing,_ growled Thorn automatically. Lying to Garnandr was easy; he wasn't his soulmate, he wasn't his brother, lying to Garnandr was like blocking an angry swipe of talons. _Not your business._

_You are more transparent than you think, youngling,_ said Garnandr. _It concerns the half-elf, and your Rider's new child. You tasted fire._

_Get out of my head._

_It is not yours to govern, not while –_

_OUT! _Thorn bellowed in physical life, a crimson spurt of flame blossoming in front of him. He could feel Garnandr's mind retreating – no, not retreating, drawing back like a wildcat slinking back to its den, waiting, eyes gleaming in the dark…

Frustration boiled up inside Thorn and he shot out another blast of flame, enjoying the burn of scarlet against blue. Down below, Murtagh was completely absorbed in his child…perhaps, if he'd been paying attention, he would have sensed Thorn's anger…but he hadn't and Thorn was glad.

Tensing his muscles, he beat his wings and surged higher into the sky.


	7. And throw off these shackles

Murtagh never would have believed it, but he was beginning to find early morning his favorite time of day.

He liked it _just_ before the sun rose, when the sky was gold and the light on the mountains orange and everything was still and quiet for a few moments, before the Academy awoke and his world was filled with the life of a dozen or so dragons and twice as many people and not that he _minded_ it, it was just nice to get a few minutes to himself…

Below him, Thorn yawned, a gaping lion-like sound. Murtagh looked down from his seat on the roof and wondered if he'd visited the Eldunari again. It didn't seem like it; Thorn hadn't mentioned anything about them.

_No, they've been pretty quiet lately,_ said Thorn. _Garnandr keeps trying to get in my head though._

_Tell him to piss off._

_I do. He doesn't listen._

_Typical._ Murtagh was beginning to appreciate exactly how exceptional Mirren's grace and calm had been; age, apparently, did not bring serenity to dragons. The four remaining Eldunari were bitter and pugnacious without an exception.

Then again, maybe Arya had brought them back because Eragon and the others couldn't deal with them.

Sweet of her.

_I don't think they're doing much, though…I mean, if they are messing with Lane, I can't tell. And they certainly won't tell me._

_He seems okay…_ Murtagh was still keeping an eye on him but Lane seemed fine, a trifle irritated and tired perhaps, but he was hitting what would have been his late teen years if he were human and that was to be expected.

_I still think we should tell him._

_I will. At the right moment._

_Murtagh. There will never be a 'right' moment. Life doesn't work like that._

Drumming his heels on the roof tiles, Murtagh grimaced and looked over the ocean.

_What are you avoiding, Murtagh?_

_I'm not avoiding anything._

With a grunt, Thorn rose up on his hind legs, settling himself into a huge tower of muscle and bone, and bent his head to look Murtagh in the eye. _Yes, you are._

_No, I'm_ – Murtagh thought of Aedela and Aidan, sleeping peacefully in the house below, and how much he loved the both of them, and how Aedela loved Lane, and how the other day he'd referred to Lane as his son without batting an eyelash and – _I just don't want my family getting messed up._

Family. He'd used that word and it felt right and why was his throat getting tight what the hell –

_You can't stop that by hiding things from them,_ said Thorn, and his voice was very, very gentle. Murtagh blinked and stared determinedly at the sea.

_Hey._ Thorn exhaled, wafting warm dragon-scented air over Murtagh, and pressed his giant muzzle comfortingly against Murtagh's ribs. _I know. I get it._

_I don't want to lose them, _admitted Murtagh. _Any of them. _His eyes felt tight too and he leaned his head against the broad front of Thorn's snout.

_You'll still have me,_ murmured Thorn. _Shh. It's all right._

Thorn's comforting only intensified Murtagh's urge to cry, but he clamped down on it and shut his eyes, taking a deep breath.

_Fine. Next chance I get – when it's _appropriate_ – I'll tell him._

_And Aedela?_

… _I don't know. Depends on how Lane reacts. _

After Mirren's death, every dragon on Alagaesia had heard about the fire. They'd told their Riders, naturally, but per Murtagh's instructions it had been kept from the general public. The king then – Ajihad II, possibly, or maybe Nasden I, it was getting hard to keep track of them – hadn't wanted nationwide panic.

And then decades had passed and people had forgotten, and who could blame them, who would make an effort to keep a threat alive when there was no reason to?

Sometimes it takes work to stay afraid.

And sometimes it's all too easy.


	8. Of bad religion

_Author's note: I feel here is as good a time as any to point out that the chapter titles are, in fact, lyrics from the Globus song "A Thousand Deaths" (which, by the way, I highly recommend listening to, both for this work and in general) and that not only are they lifted from a song which I believe is about the Crusades, but that it is general meaning and not specific which is relevant to this story._

* * *

"Murtagh?"

Murtagh heard Lane knock against the door frame and pushed back from his desk, there was _way_ too much paper on it, if he was mortal he'd probably have said he was too old for this crap but he was just _done. _"Yeah? What is it?" Lane's mind felt anxious, but he was trying to hide it, so out of respect Murtagh backed off.

And then Murtagh turned around and realized he needn't have bothered, because _something is wrong_ was written all over Lane's face. He was pale, chalky even. His pupils were pinpricks, and his hand on the door frame was shaking ever so slightly.

I never would have seen that twenty years ago, part of Murtagh noted.

"Lane? You okay? No, you're not, stupid question, ignore that, sorry –" he pulled over a chair, turned his around. "Here, sit down."

In a way it felt odd, treating Lane like a child – as far as years went, Lane was almost thirty. Then again, Murtagh was pushing a hundred and ten.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

Lane seated himself slowly, like he was scared he'd fall apart, and something went cold and hollow inside Murtagh's chest. This was it. This was the start of whatever would happen.

F-k.

_Thorn?_

_I got it._

"I was – I was outside, just walking, to get a snack, and –" Lane drew a trembling hand across his mouth. "I don't know, suddenly everything felt really weird and it was like, it was like I couldn't move right and Kadi tells me I didn't fall or anything but I know I blacked out for a bit and…" Lane looked at Murtagh with eyes the color of cinnamon and Murtagh could tell he was rattled down to his bones. "And then I thought, well, keep going, it'll pass, but it hasn't and I just feel worse and worse…"

"How long ago did this happen?"

"This morning…two, three hours ago…and I still…still feel bad…"

He and Thorn had been gone, Murtagh remembered. Nothing important, just a quick hour-long excursion.

_Kadi seems perfectly fine,_ reported Thorn. _He's worried sick about Lane, obviously, but nothing strange happened to him._

_Thorn, do you think – the Eldunari…_

_I'm pretty damn sure,_ said Thorn grimly. _But I wouldn't accuse them just yet._

Murtagh looked back at Lane, who'd propped an elbow on the desk and was staring out the window, one hand covering his mouth. Shock like that, violent mental shock, it didn't just happen…

"Lane," he said quietly. "I want you to think very carefully and see if you can remember. Did you feel anyone else enter your mind?"

Swallowing, Lane looked down, the knob jumping in his narrow throat. "I, uh…sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Well, for a second, it felt like there was someone else, but…I don't know, it seemed to go away…it didn't feel _wrong…_"

It was clear to Murtagh what needed to be done. He scooted his chair closer, held out his hands. "May I?"

Lane understood and nodded, swallowing again. "Yeah. Go ahead." He leaned forward a little.

Reaching out, Murtagh cupped Lane's face in his hands, cradling his head, and closed his eyes. Lane's mind was jittery, twitchy, and for a second Murtagh was inexplicably reminded of his time under Galbatorix.

_Here,_ said Lane, nudging a memory forward. _This is where I was…_

Murtagh walked through the memory with him, and it happened mostly as Lane had said. He was walking down to the kitchens, it was morning, and…oh, that did feel unnerving, even secondhand the sensation of losing control like that gave Murtagh chills. No wonder Lane was upset, and if the contact lingered… Thorn connected to the memory, sniffing through it for anything familiar.

_Recognize anything? _Murtagh made sure to keep his words to Thorn separate from Lane.

_Not really. I'd put a guess at dragon, but even then I could just be biased. It's hard…it doesn't feel invasive, not really, almost like his mind is used to the contact…_

_Used to it? How?_

_I don't know._ Thorn sounded equal parts bemused and angered. _This has never happened before?_

Murtagh repeated his question. Lane shrugged, twitching slightly, skin cool and a little clammy under Murtagh's hands. _No, I – I don't think so…_

_Nothing strange? Nothing at all?_

_I…well…I've been having funny dreams…_

This time he led Murtagh towards them unbidden. They were vague, unformed things, but all with a distinct mental signature that was clearly not Lane…

Thorn hissed. _Eldunari. Definitely one of them. Playing with his mind, getting it accustomed to control while he's asleep and vulnerable._

It was hard to keep the dark anger in his mind from spilling over into Lane's. _Goddamn lousy sons of b-tches –_

_Oh, leave the swearing to me,_ said Thorn with dark humor. _I assure you, I can do much better._

_Right. _Murtagh pulled away from Thorn, out of Lane's mind, gently released his hands. Blinking, Lane sat up straight, eyes searching Murtagh's face.

"Well?"

It was time to be honest.

"One of the Eldunari – we don't know which – is playing with your mind, trying to control it. Possibly for a while now, whenever you started having these dreams." Lane let out a sharp exhale, eyebrows contracting automatically. "That's probably what this was. Them trying to see how much control they could get."

"But – _why?_" Lane leaned forward, face the picture of desperation. "But why would they, that doesn't make sense, why me –"

"Lane." Murtagh put his hands on Lane's shoulders and his heart hurt, it hurt for this boy but there was nothing else he could do. "I'm going to tell you something that's going to be very, very hard to hear. God knows I don't want you to hear it. But there's no point keeping secrets any longer."

Lane wrapped his fingers around each other, jaw hard as ice. "Tell me."

"There was an Eldunari – Mirren, dam to your Kadi, in fact – the one who died five years ago. Well, before she did, she had a premonition, that a great fire would come and destroy everything." Funny, when Murtagh had visualized this he'd always thought it'd be hard to speak, but the words simply rolled out of him. "For a while, it was all she knew. Fire. But then, as she was dying…we think she mentioned you."

Lane's lower lip trembled and he bit it, hard. "Me?"

"She said… 'Fire is coming, rushing down the path, roaring down the _lane…_"

The tense angle of Lane's shoulders drooped. "That's not…that's hardly…"

"I know," said Murtagh. "But not long after, your mother had a dream with the same premonition of fire. It seems too much of a coincidence…"

"It could still be one!" Lane sat up straight, jerking out from under Murtagh's hands. "You have absolutely no proof that I'm going to…what, cause this fire, or…"

_It doesn't matter,_ said Thorn gently. _The Eldunari believe it. And so they're acting thus. _

"Well then, they're stupid, because there's no way I'd _ever –_"

_And there is a third premonition._

_What?_ Thorn was outside, so Murtagh couldn't turn to gape at him, but he frowned at Lane. _Thorn, what are you talking about?_

_On the day Aidan was born._ There was a note of apology in Thorn's voice, and Murtagh didn't like it – he could picture drooping wings and a limp tail. _Lane, you walked into the room and touched Aidan on the head, and…I saw fire. Lots of it._

Lane's breathing began to hitch. _That still doesn't –_

_I don't know. _Thorn's voice was soft in a way that Murtagh had assumed was reserved for just him and Thorn. _None of us do._

Lane let out a long, shaky breath, hands pushed against his forehead as if he could wipe his mind clean. "What do I do, then?"

"I don't know." _You lied, Thorn. You lied to me._ It was all Murtagh could think.

_I know._

_You lied._ It was a betrayal, and it hurt every bit like one was supposed to.

_I'm sorry. _

Maybe he was. Murtagh couldn't tell right now.

"No." Lane was on his feet now, shaking from head to toe. "No, no, no, you've got it all wrong, I'm not, I can't –"

His voice was shaking, too.

"You can't, I won't, they can't make me, it's not – you're wrong, you're all wrong –"

In his haste to leave, he tripped over a stack of books, and only stopped himself from falling by clutching the wall. Murtagh could see tears brimming in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," said Murtagh – he was hollow, his voice was hollow, but that was Thorn's fault – "I really am…"

Lane gritted his teeth and tipped his head back against the wall and once again Murtagh got that flash of _that was me,_ that was me a hundred years ago… Lane was talking to Kadi now, being soothed perhaps, just like him and Thorn had been…

What happened to me, he wondered. Who did I turn into.

"Lane…"

"No. No, just – stop."

"Lane, listen to me."

His tone was firm enough that Lane opened his eyes and looked at him. His eyelids were red, his mouth set in an angry line. "What?"

"Lane, premonitions are tricky. They're neither here nor there. While they are not rock-solid promises –" Lane opened his mouth and Murtagh held up a hand. "Let me finish. They are not guarantees of the future but they are not idle daydreams, either. They cannot be ignored. Maybe you're right. Maybe it doesn't refer to you. But at this point, wouldn't it be foolish to ignore that possibility?"

"Yeah, you say that," said Lane, breathing heavily, "but I have _no f-king clue _what I'm supposed to be doing –"

_I think first we remove you from the influence of the Eldunari,_ said Thorn.

_He lied to you, don't listen to him,_ snapped something inside of Murtagh, and the second he finished thinking that it felt so _wrong_ that he had to resist the urge to apologize to Thorn right there and then. Not listen to his dragon? Never.

"Okay, and then what?" demanded Lane.

Murtagh shrugged. Pull it together, man, look at yourself, this is pathetic. "Then we'll see."

"What about Mum?" demanded Lane. "Does she know?"

Oh God. Aedela. Murtagh let out a slow, heavy breath, dreading what he was about to face.

"Not yet."


	9. One thousand and one nights

Aedela stared at Murtagh for a long, long time.

"I don't know what's worse," she said at last. "The possibility that you're serious, or the possibility that you're not."

"Would I joke about this?" said Murtagh quietly. The sunlight shimmered on Aedela's skin, glittered on her hair, the wind teasing silver strands out of her bun. "Darling, I'm serious."

"I don't know how you can be," she snapped. "Are you saying my son, _my son,_ is going to turn ballistic and rain fiery death over all of us –"

"I don't know!" Oh God, he was tired, he was so tired, he just wanted all this to end… "Look, Aedela…" He reached out to stroke her cheek, but she leaned away from the touch. "I don't…it's not like I _want_ this to happen. I don't. I'm terrified of it. But we have to be prepared, and hopefully avoid it."

Aedela looked down at Aidan, who was fussing in his sheepskin nest by the side of the herb patch. The set of her jaw was like marble. "I can't believe this of you," she said in a low voice.

"Love –"

"How _dare_ you!" She whipped her head up, eyes blazing. "How dare you accuse my son of this, how dare –"

"He's my son too!" shouted Murtagh.

A light breeze stirred the plants at their feet.

_Well, he is,_ thought Murtagh.

"I just –" Aedela broke it by shaking her head and turning away, hand covering her eyes. "I don't know what to think."

"Then trust me," pleaded Murtagh softly, stepping over to her and putting his hands on her arms. "Please?" He bent is head in an effort to look her in the eyes. "If you love me…"

Aedela nodded and leaned forward, hiding her face in his chest. Sighing, Murtagh wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. The sunlight was warm, scented faintly with herbs…Aidan complained again and Murtagh reached out with his mind, instinctively shooshing, soothing. _There, there, little one…it's all right…_

"So what's happening?" Aedela said eventually, voice muffled. She was holding back tears.

Murtagh sighed, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. "Thorn and I agreed that Lane and Kadi should leave as soon as possible…get away from the Eldunari…"

"Where?"

"Not sure yet."

"We could go back to Ellesmera."  
"It's definitely an option…" Murtagh realized what pronoun she'd used. " 'We?' "

"Yes." Aedela flung her head back, eyes diamond. "I'm not leaving him, Murtagh. He's not going to be alone."

"He's got Kadi –"

"_I don't care."_ Fierceness ran through every line of her like a line of steel. "Is that what you were planning to do? Just send him off on his own?"

Quite honestly, it hadn't. "No. No, Thorn and I would have gone with him."

"Well, you still can," said Aedela. "Why not? You, and me, and Thorn and Lane and Kadi, and we'll have to take Aidan too…why don't we all just go up to Ellesmera?" She reached up to brush a hand down his cheek – were there lines appearing? – and her face softened. "I think more than one of us could use a break."

It felt…uneasy to Murtagh, disconcerting in some vague manner that he couldn't put his finger on. Lane was volatile, unsteady, and Murtagh didn't want him anywhere near Aedela or Aidan at all. Suggesting that to Aedela, though, felt dangerous…

On the other hand, Ellesmera was big, and Du Weldenvarden even larger. Once they were there he was sure it wouldn't be hard to get Lane and Kadi away…And Arya, he could ask her advice, God they hadn't talked in _ages…_

_I would go,_ said Thorn, though he didn't sound completely confident. _Aedela is right. You need to get away. _

_You're not all for it either?_

Thorn deliberated. _It's hard to tell. I would like to feel sure about this, but for some reason I can't._

'_Surety is a luxury afforded to those who are ignorant all that can go wrong,' _quoted Murtagh. _Yeah, I feel you, buddy._

He looked back at Aedela and saw she was watching him, waiting for his decision. Making his mind up, Murtagh kissed the tiny crease between her brows. "All right," he said. "A family vacation it is."


	10. Change everything

The noon light was not kind to Lane. Murtagh could see shadows the color of frosted plums under his eyes, every flake of skin on his cracked lips, the ragged red dotting his fingers where he'd chewed his hangnails off.

"I thought distance would help," said Murtagh quietly. Next to him Thorn, a giant sun-warmed bulk, rested his head on his paws.

Lane, seated next to him on the roof of the treehouse, ran a shaking hand through his hair. "I just – I don't know, sometimes I feel fine and then others…it's like I can't tell is it in my own head, is it just me or somebody else screwing with my brain, I can't, I don't…"

Taking a deep breath, Lane knotted his fingers together and stared out over the treetops. Kadi crooned and pushed a giant head under Lane's arm. The dragon was unsettled, too – Murtagh could read it in the gray tinge around Kadi's eyes and nostrils, the uneasy twitching of his tail.

Murtagh looked at the pair of them and wished, wished _so_ hard, that he knew what to do. They'd been in Ellesmera a week and separation hadn't done a damned thing, Lane had learned how to shield his mind long, long ago and that wasn't any use either, Thorn had raged and snarled and threatened destruction at the Eldunari and they hadn't responded at all. They'd talked to Arya, talked to other Riders, tried meditation and trances and all kinds of mystic search-your-soul stuff. They might as well as told Lane to sleep it off, you'll be better in the morning. It was all Murtagh could do not to scream his frustration at the night stars.

Behind them, Aidan gurgled, and Murtagh turned around to see him crawl away from Aedela. She reached over and dragged him back across the roof, and as she looked up she met Murtagh's eyes.

_She looks sad,_ he thought with a sudden pang. _Sad and tired. _She should never, never ever his darling, she should never be sad…

Laughing, Aidan made another bid for freedom and Aedela turned back to him, releasing Murtagh. With a sigh, he looked back at Lane. "I think we're going to have to try more drastic measures," he said quietly. Quiet enough that Aedela couldn't hear.

Murtagh didn't miss the convulsive clutching of Lane's fingers, or the sudden widening of his pupils. "I know," he continued. "It's daunting. But we've got nothing left…"

Lane swallowed and pressed his head against Kadi's. Murtagh ached with pity for him. It was terrifying, the prospect of having someone root around in your head, dig through your memories, search through everything that was _you_. It was invasive and horrifying and something no one should ever, ever have to go through.

_It's the only way,_ murmured Thorn.

_I know._

Humming reassuringly, Kadi pushed closer to Lane, who tightened his arms with a small convulsion that looked very much like a sob. Murtagh's ribs clenched and he reached out to place a hand on Lane's shoulder –

And then several things happened, very quickly. A great gust of wind rushed towards them, rocking the house itself. Lane seized Kadi, Aedela shrieked, and Murtagh tumbled against Thorn just in time to see Aidan roll off the edge of the roof –

"GAH!" The noise that ripped out of him was angry and terrified and he instinctively lunged, too late –

But it was Lane who flung himself off the roof in a sudden tumbling motion, and Kadi dived after, and Murtagh flung himself flat on his stomach to see while Aedela gasped a sob and Thorn surged to his feet –

And then it snapped.


	11. You are my scheherazade

Any powerful magic user, such as a Rider, elf, or dragon, will have a fairly telepathic effect on those near them. Usually it is negligible. Only in cases of extreme emotion will their feelings be broadcast to others, and even then only the more sensitive will feel them.

When around others who are trained to operate in minds and emotions, however, it is a different story. Extreme psychological duress can have reverberations that are immediate and visceral. For those who are familiar with the individual's mental touch – such as family or loved ones – the effect can be even stronger.

In that split second after Lane hurled himself downwards, Murtagh could feel a psychic shock wave blast through him. It swept through his mind – it _blistered_ – and as he lay gasping on his stomach somehow his scalded synapses relayed the information from his eyes that Lane had caught Aidan and Kadi had caught Lane –

And then a hand had clamped on his shoulder and Aedela leaned over him and Thorn full-out _hissed,_ a rip through the sound of everything else, through the sound of Kadi shrieking and Lane blurting out a yell that didn't – sound – human –

_F-K,_ snarled Thorn.

_What is it – what's _– Struggling to shield against his mind from the throbbing blast, Murtagh pushed himself to his hands and knees. Below them Kadi bellowed, catching himself with outspread wings.

_On my back, NOW! _roared Thorn, and Murtagh, dazed, bewildered, didn't try to understand but simply seized Aedela's hand and dragged her with him, clambering up the red scaly mountain, feeling Aedela's arms around him like steel wire and realizing she was speaking in terrified bursts –

"What's going on – what's happening – what's wrong – Thorn –"

_Lane's gone,_ rumbled Thorn, black and grim, and the world lurched under Murtagh as he pushed off. _His mind was too unsteady and he fell._

White-hot panic seared through Murtagh. _He's got Aidan,_ he screamed. "AIDAN!"

Aedela's nails dug into his side. _What the hell are you talking about, he's gone, what do you mean_ –

_Quiet._ The force of Thorn's mental voice was enough that they both fell silent. Thorn pushed through the air, chasing Kadi. _The Eldunari pushed Lane too far and so in a moment of shock and fear he lost control and he broke. _

_What the _hell_ does that mean, he _broke –

_It means his mind is not right!_ bellowed Thorn. Kadi, lighter than Thorn, was a faster flyer and gaining distance. _It means he broke, it means he has lost touch with reality and he seems to have taken Kadi with him –_

Everything inside of Murtagh was mixed-up and terrified. Crouching low against Thorn's scales to avoid the windstream, he tried to reach out to Lane's mind. But he couldn't touch it – it was raging, flaming, unapproachable…

_Thorn, _what about Aidan?demanded Murtagh.

_I don't know –_

_He'll be fine,_ said Aedela grimly. Her hands on Murtagh's waist were shaking. _Lane's clinging to the last sane thought he had – protect his little brother._

Murtagh looked around at her – she was white as bone and her eyes were sparking silver. _How do you know?_

_ I'm his mother._ The ironclad surety of her voice left no room for argument. _I know._

As Murtagh's brain cleared, he realized that Thorn was trying to speak to Kadi. He couldn't catch actual words but Thorn was urging him to slow down, to relax, to listen –

Kadi turned a head over his shoulder and shrieked. Pale fire crackled around the edges of his head.

Murtagh's fear had been white-hot. His dread at a prophecy realized was colder than the hollow depths of black lakes in caves.

_Thorn –_

Behind him, Aedela shivered. _Murtagh, you don't think –_

Murtagh was just in time to cast a ward before they were engulfed in silver flames.

Fire screamed around them, molten, blazing. Murtagh hunched over, Aedela pressed against his back, and he could feel Thorn vibrating with the double effort of keeping airborne and pouring his energy into the ward. Sparks danced off Thorn's scales, white and pale green, and it was too bright, blinding even through Murtagh's eyelids. The heat was pure, it penetrated his core, blazed away any moisture before Murtagh could even sweat…

With a rushing sound like wind the flames swirled around them, spiraled into nothingness. Murtagh raised his head, afterimages dancing before him in black and purple, and squinted into the bright sky. Kadi and Lane were long distant.

_We can't catch them,_ realized Murtagh, and it was like being stabbed in the gut with an icicle. Aedela was trembling worse than ever.

"We've got to find them," she gasped. "Thorn –"

Murtagh wasn't sure, but he thought he could smell smoke…

_Easier said than done –_

"Look!" cried Aedela.

Murtagh could definitely smell smoke.

Thorn banked so they could see over his side.

There were trees on fire down below, the silver-green of Kadi's flames sweeping into bright orange-red. They were still over Ellesmera, there were homes down there…

_I can't catch up to them,_ said Thorn, dark with resignation.

An iron chill curled around Murtagh's insides, squeezing tight. But he made his decision.

"Thorn, take us down."


	12. I am your king

Sweaty, exhausted, and sick at heart, Murtagh threaded his way through the charred tangle of fallen tree trunks, Thorn lumbering behind him. The fires were out – it had really only taken about an hour – it had felt like an eternity…

_Where are they?_ he asked Thorn.

_Still airborne._ It hadn't been hard for Thorn to locate Kadi mentally. _Close to the Crags, actually. Aidan is…asleep._

There was just a shade too much hesitation there for Murtagh's liking. _Thorn._

Thorn rumbled uncomfortably. _It's hard to tell. He could be asleep, he could be unconscious. They're far away._

Fighting the lead-weight nausea, Murtagh stepped over a blackened log. They'd decided that there was no point confronting Lane and Kadi while they were in the air. It was simply too easy for Kadi to outfly Thorn, and while Murtagh could use magic to slow them down…well, he was hesitant to pressure them, unbalanced as they were. And Aedela seemed to be right, Lane didn't want to harm Aidan…

_Aedela…_

Two elves passed him, clothes smeared with charcoal, faces grim. They touched their lips to him and Thorn, but didn't speak – Murtagh, whose throat rasped with smoke, couldn't complain.

They continued through the forest, Thorn easily pushing through a burnt sapling to walk alongside Murtagh. The toe of Murtagh's boot caught on a log and he tripped, stumbling forward, only just saving himself from falling by throwing an arm against Thorn's leg. Even when Murtagh had regained his balance, he still leaned against Thorn, absurdly grateful for the simple comfort of having someone large and warm there.

The line between burnt black and living green was stark. Murtagh and Thorn crossed over, heading towards where a makeshift shelter had been set up. Elves were scattered around it, some drooped on the grass, others busied with the wounded under the shelter…

Something jumped in Murtagh's chest and he swallowed hard. Thorn touched the top of Murtagh's head with his muzzle. _She'll be fine._

_ Yeah. Yeah, I know_, managed Murtagh.

There were two other dragons, a cerulean and a pale rose, seated off to one side. With a brush of rough scales, Thorn nuzzled Murtagh's neck and walked off to join them.

It felt like Murtagh's every heartbeat reverberated through him.

As he approached the shelter, the gathered elves drew back a little, touching fingers to their lips, some murmuring the greeting. They called him "elda," now…a title Murtagh didn't think he'd earned. A title he didn't think he'd ever earn.

He didn't have to ask to find Aedela. Even when unconscious, she still pulled him like a magnet. He threaded his way through cots and pale-robed healers until…

A long, long, long time ago, before the war, before Eragon, before he'd ever left Uru'baen, he'd been walking along a battlement when he'd nearly stepped on a dead butterfly. He'd barely seen it, just sort of instinctively avoided the little spot of white. And then for some reason he'd stooped for a better look.

It was an average butterfly, one of the little white ones that liked to frequent gardens. Nothing extraordinary. But there was something about the fragility of its limp wings, its delicate, ephemeral droop, that made him pity it, that made him feel sad that the butterfly's short happy existence had ended in it lying crushed on an ignominious flagstone. But then he'd straightened up and moved on, because he was seventeen goddamn years old and he was Murtagh goddamn Morzanson and he had better things to do than wax poetical over dead butterflies, dammit.

Murtagh looked down at Aedela now and was suddenly reminded of that butterfly. Something linked them, fragility, pallor, stillness, the broken butterfly and the wounded woman. Aedela lay on her back, eyes closed (well, the eye that he could see), skin silvery-white. There were wet cloths draped over the left half of her face, her arm, most of her chest…

Numbly, Murtagh reached out and lifted the edge of a cloth, just enough to expose the raw carmine of a burn. The healers had done some work already, he could tell…but they were weary…everyone was weary…

"Shur'turgal?" An elf approached him, long fingers overlapped in front of his chest. "Be assured, she will make a full recovery."

"Thank you," murmured Murtagh, voice scraping in his throat. Letting the cloth fall, he trailed his fingers down the side of her uninjured cheek…oh, his darling…

"We have healed her eye, and with the right spells her skin will not scar either," continued the elf. He had black hair pulled into a bun, and round green eyes. "There is no deep or permanent damage."

Murtagh didn't answer, just continued to stroke her cheek. Augh, his heart bled for her…he just…

"She is not in pain," added the elf helpfully.

She better not be. Murtagh went to his mind, brushed around hers, testing, lightly pushing. Aedela was asleep, either by a spell or a narcotic, a deep enough sleep where yes, she couldn't feel pain… Something invisible in Murtagh's chest had hooked his sternum to his spine, so that he couldn't breathe properly. He exhaled sharply and rested the back of his hand against Aedela's jaw, held her hand in his.

_Murtagh,_ said Thorn sharply. _They're landing._

And suddenly every nerve end in his body went live, and he trembled. _Where?_

_ Stone of Broken Eggs. _

_ Right. _Murtagh curled his fingers around Aedela's, leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. Her skin was smooth, smooth and soft and cool, and when he pulled away it felt like he was tearing himself out of the imprint of his lips.

_I've got to go, darling,_ he said in her mind. _I'm so sorry. But I have to. If I don't – if – if I don't come back, just know that I love you. Just know that._

Something in her mind stirred, responded. She didn't move in the physical world, but Murtagh could sense the little spark of awakening life.

_Murtagh…_

_ Shh. Shh, it's all right._

_ Don't kill him._

His heart thudded hollowly in his chest. _Who?_

_ Lane. Don't kill him. _She was begging, he realized, she never begged, not his silver queen, and yet here she was… _Please. Save him._

_ I will,_ promised Murtagh.

_Please._

_ I will. _And he bent down again, kissed her forehead, her perfect mouth. _I love you._

_ Thank you… _she sighed, and slipped back into oblivion.

Murtagh straightened, looked down on Aedela. She could have been a marble statue, flawless and unmoving.

His heart ached.

_Okay, Thorn,_ he said. _Let's go._


	13. And I'd breathe in fire and ash

_Sorry about the slow updates! I've started school in London, so naturally it didn't leave a whole lot of time for writing. Now that things are settling down, though, I should be able to get things going again. Hang in there, it's the final stretch!_

* * *

They were halfway to the Stone when Murtagh realized Thorn was not the only dragon in the air. The blue and the pink from earlier were behind him – far enough away that he could barely see them, but behind him nonetheless.

_Thorn, what is this?_

_ Just in case things go wrong,_ replied Thorn smoothly.

_No, I don't want them, it'll just freak Lane and Kadi out more –_

_ They'll be well out of the way,_ said Thorn. _Going in by ourselves felt unwise._ When Murtagh didn't respond, he added, _They have every right to help protect their home._

Murtagh couldn't argue with that. In fact the fear that coated his insides like oily slick made it difficult to speak at all. For a little while they flew on in silence, Thorn's wings beating a drum through the empty air.

_You know,_ said Murtagh at last, _I used to never be afraid. _

_ Never?_

_ Well…no, not like this. Fear use to – to drive me, to move me…now it just makes me sick. _

_ It's because of who we're fighting,_ said Thorn gently.

And that was the difference. This time it wasn't Murtagh's own life at stake, it was something far more important…

At least Aidan was still alive. Alive, and as far as Murtagh could tell, unharmed. _At least _– oh God, what a horrible phrase –

_Fear never moved you,_ said Thorn.

_It – what?_

_ It was never fear that drove you so many years ago. It wasn't fear that made you flee Uru'baen, or rescue Eragon, or use the Word. It was anger. There was fear, yes, but it was your rage that fueled you. _

Murtagh sat quiet and pale. _I've lost that anger._

_ Have you?_ Thorn's wings rushed on, a steady heartbeat. _Because I haven't. _

Something cold and hard forged inside of Murtagh, like a steel bar in chill water. _Show me._

Thorn's mind, never separate, flushed further into Murtagh's, tugging him, drawing him into a wave of anger, sweeping blistering fury that _HOW DARE THEY DO THAT, YOU DON'T HURT MY FAMILY _and Thorn was going to personally tear the throats out of everyone who'd caused them harm, savage jaws dripping blood, he would rake claws down their soul and shove live coals down their gullet and this seething mass of anger roiled inside him like a volcano pregnant with molten rock, its cracked sides barely containing all the hurt and anger and _fire_ –

With a growl, Murtagh pulled away from Thorn's mind, fists clenched and teeth gritted. It wasn't his, though, the bloodlust swirling through him, that was Thorn's, but somehow –

And something caught and ignited in his brain stem, the primal urge to _protect._ _That's my son,_ he snarled, _don't you touch him, DON'T YOU F-KING DARE –_

Smoke hissed from between Thorn's bared teeth and he pumped the air with his wings, surging ahead. Murtagh could just see something ahead on the horizon, something dark –

_Oh, no._

A great murky cloud of smoke was burgeoning in front of them, fading into sickly orange and tinting the sky ivory-grey. Murtagh's fingers tightened on the saddle until stark red and white lines stood out on his knuckles. _Well, I think we know where they are._

Thorn grunted agreement, his shoulder muscles bulging and flattening in rhythm. Murtagh's eardrums hummed with the air rushing past them and he flattened himself against Thorn's massive neck, watching the scales shift over rope-like tendons. _Faster,_ he willed his dragon, _faster, faster, we have to get there NOW –_

_ I'm GOING,_ snarled Thorn, and the air around them was screaming. Murtagh's mouth was dry and angry shivers were running up his spine. He could sense the two other Riders, far, far behind them, and there was a savage satisfaction in that. This was his fight. Not theirs.

_We can't injure them,_ he said.

_I know._

_ If Lane attacks, we defend. But we don't attack them._

_ So what's the plan? Fly in and talk?_

_ Basically. Just play it by ear. _Murtagh thought of Aidan, small and white and surrounded by all that fire, and something twisted painfully inside him. _And getting Aidan safe is our first priority._

Thorn huffed out a giant breath. _And Lane?_

The iron bar inside Murtagh screwed his guts tighter. _Whatever – whatever's necessary._

_ You may have to make a choice._

_ No. _Everything inside Murtagh growled rebellion. _You can't ask me to choose._

_ I'm not. Circumstances might be. _

_ I am _not_ a victim of circumstance!_

_ I know. _

The choice roiled around inside Murtagh, Aedela and Lane and Aidan all mixed up and something was pounding inside his gut and he wanted to scream in rage and frustration and pain –

And somehow, in the end, it was still very clear.


	14. All for the sake of love

Flying in towards the Stone was an assault on all senses – the crackling roar of burning trees, the blistering heat, the bitter smoke that stung both Murtagh's eyes and nose. Thorn exhaled savagely under him; the fumes were thick and strong enough that he would have been blind without the wards blocking them. Murtagh strained his eyes as they burst through the ring of fire and ash, he could just see Lane crouched on top of the Stone –

Thorn banked sharply, just in time to avoid Kadi's furious strike at them.

_Stop! _cried Murtagh. _It's us! We are not your –_

This time Thorn wasn't fast enough, and Kadi rammed into his left shoulder. Thorn bellowed his rage and reached out with his claws, but Kadi was already circling out of range.

_Going to sting again, mayfly?_ snarled Thorn.

_Don't tease me! _Kadi, furious, opened his maw –

Molten metallic white flared around them, the flames only just licking Thorn's scales. Murtagh didn't have a chance with Kadi so he started shout-pleading to Lane instead – _Lane, please, we only want to talk, we are not your enemies _– where was Aidan – Murtagh could sense him but couldn't see him –

With a rumble like an erupting volcano Thorn spread his jaws and belched out scarlet embrous flames.

Kadi, unwarded, hissed and shrieked and Lane let out an inarticulate yell. _Thorn, stop! _shouted Murtagh.

He knew it was out of love, and love only, that Thorn shut his jaws. Kadi, uninjured but very much affronted, darted around them snarling invective. _We do not negotiate now,_ rumbled Thorn.

_The hell we don't. Can't you talk Kadi –_

Murtagh's thoughts were cut off as Thorn had to drop sharply to avoid another strike from Kadi. _Right, youngling, _Thorn growled. _Best me if you can!_

Kadi wheeled around and launched himself at Thorn. But this time Thorn was ready for him and didn't duck, didn't evade, just pinned Kadi against him with all the iron strength in his bones.

_Bastard! _screamed Kadi, his claws raking down Thorn's side with a sound like nails on glass. _Lizard! Worm! _

_ Be silent,_ commanded Thorn, and fastened his jaws around Kadi's neck. Now that they'd stopped moving, Murtagh could see Aidan in Lane's arms, a still pale bundle. _Please,_ Murtagh begged, heart pounding in his chest, _please let him be okay…_.

Kadi hissed and tried to free his wings. _Leave him alone! _yelled Lane, and even mentally his voice cracked.

_Thorn…_ said Murtagh. This wasn't right, they were pushing them too far…

Now _we can negotiate,_ said Thorn.

_Fuck you,_ snarled Kadi.

_Respect your elders._

Lane was on edge, touchy and trembling like a wounded dragon. _Don't come near me,_ he snapped.

_We just want to talk,_ said Murtagh quietly. Maybe, if he could just calm him down –

_Don't come near me!_ Lane stumbled back, clutching Aidan to his chest. Murtagh's hands clenched involuntarily on the saddle.

_Stop your mewling._ Thorn was getting tired of supporting Kadi's weight as well as his own; as he glided in to land on the Stone, Lane scrambled out of the way, eyes fixed on them. Murtagh couldn't tell if the manic light in his eyes was a reflection of his inner state or the fires burning all around them.

Thorn dropped Kadi to the ground, pinning him against the charred rock. The air was thick with smoke, the heat choking, and as Murtagh slid off of Thorn's back he looked right to Aidan and – and –

Aidan was alive, but too still, too limp in Lane's arms, and the skin that Murtagh could see through charred clothing was pink, inflamed, shiny –

Rage boiled to life inside of Murtagh – it was choking him, the anger and the pain and he stood rigid with the blood pounding in his head and the heat was stifling and _HOW DARE YOU HURT MY SON – _

"Give me Aidan," said Murtagh. He kept his voice even, controlled. His hands were shaking.

"You'll hurt him," sneered Lane, backing up a step. "Don't pretend otherwise."

"No." Murtagh's voice shook with the effort of keeping himself from shouting. "I swear to you Lane, I won't."

"Ha!" Lane let out a savage burst of laughter; behind himself, Murtagh could hear Kadi struggling ineffectually under Thorn.

"Lane…"

"NO!" Lane screamed over the roar of burning forest, embers flying around him. "You won't hurt us!"

If Murtagh let himself feel everything it would rip him apart so instead he thought like he did in the wars and focused on one thing and one thing only and that was Aidan. Lane was unarmed; Murtagh had a dagger. Murtagh was stronger than Lane, and Thorn stronger than Kadi. If all they wanted to do was kill, it would be no problem.

Of course, it was so much more difficult than that.

_If we use magic against them, they'll kill themselves fighting back,_ said Thorn. _Kadi has no concept of his own limits anymore._

_Right._ Perhaps it was time to take the direct approach and fix Lane from the inside out. _I know what I'm going to do, Thorn._

_ MURTAGH._

_ It'll be fine. I can do this. _Murtagh locked eyes with Lane, took a deep breath, readying himself to take the mental plunge. Thorn's here, he reminded himself. You have Thorn as an anchor. He closed his eyes, reached out towards the inferno ringing Lane's mind…

_Murtagh, you stop RIGHT NOW – _

Thorn was worried, of course, but he was just being silly, everything was going to be _fine _–

_Murtagh, NO! _screamed Thorn.

Heart pounding, Murtagh entered Lane's mind –

– and –

– _and – _

– fire ripped and tore and burned and it was swirling and it was everywhere coruscating conflagrating scorching searing incinerating and it _hurt_ it tore through Murtagh and he couldn't think or move or breathe oh _gods –_

_MURTAGH,_ yelled Thorn, far off and distant. Murtagh tried to turn and find him but he was blind, directionless and he could hear raw broken screaming –

_THORN,_ he tried to reply, and realized the screams were his. He couldn't find Thorn, couldn't find Lane, couldn't find Aidan, the only thing around him was the fire and it was beyond bearing –

_Get out!_ someone else wailed. _Leave us alone, it hurts, it hurts – _

_ Aaagh – _Murtagh dimly reached for the voice – for Lane – but he vanished like a will-o'-the-wisp and Murtagh was left with the heat and the fire he couldn't take it couldn't – couldn't – couldn't –

Another mind stretched out to him and this time Murtagh managed to grab on and take hold and Thorn, with a valiant effort at calm, said, _I'm here. I'm here. _

_ Ngah. _Murtagh struggled to shield himself, but all his attempts burnt like paper. Thorn growled bass and tried to pull Murtagh closer into his mind.

The fire was burning Thorn too, though, Murtagh could feel the flames searing his dragon and his repressed agony and so he let go, blocked Thorn from the flames. The fire was worse than ever, it was _un-bear-a-ble_ and it screamed through Murtagh he was dying but he did the only thing left that made sense and pushed forward to Lane.

Lane was elusive; he wailed and keened and shuddered away from Murtagh's mind like it burnt worse than fire. But through the haze of pain Murtagh could sense the eye of the storm and so he persisted. And finally he made contact and though Lane tried to shy away Murtagh stayed with him.

_Stop, please…_ begged Lane. _It hurts, make it stop, it hurts…_

_ I won't hurt you,_ promised Murtagh. Quietly. In the ancient language. _As long as you give me Aidan. _

Lane shivered, he had to believe Murtagh, he had no choice, but his madness pulled him the opposite way. There was an explosion building, Murtagh could feel the tension and he struggled desperately to return to himself. But no matter where he turned, the mounting flames forced him back. The two halves of Lane were warring – stretching apart – the pressure was unbearable –

A psychic shock wave blasted through Murtagh like the sun exploding. He howled, reeling, and suddenly everything was through Lane's eyes, he and Lane were one –

Yes, fire was everywhere, but the light and the heat were a blessing and a protection, a glowing wall against the howling menace outside. Aidan, curled in his arms, so small and fragile, squirmed unhappily. _Shh, shh, it's all right,_ soothed Lane, calming him with his mind. _You're safe. I've got you._

But his head was pounding – it hurt – iron thorns were being driven through his temples. His vision blurred until he could barely see Murtagh crumpled on the ground in front of him. That savage red demon Thorn had Kadi pinned, crushed into the rock, and Lane could feel every spike of pain shooting up Kadi's legs.

_I'm all right,_ grunted Kadi. The firelight glowed, danced on him, but Thorn was a spiky black silhouette –

_Thorn, my Thorn, my dragon – _

No, that wasn't right, it was Kadi who was his dragon, his darling –

_NO_, growled Murtagh – to leave Thorn – blasphemy –

But Thorn was a vicious mountain with glowing red eyes, intent on devouring Aidan –

– _keep Aidan safe – _

The flames were a blessing –

The flames were a curse –

His head was hurting – hurt fit to burst –

– someone screamed or maybe they both screamed and a dragon roared and Murtagh could feel his limbs again –

And everything was light and heat and _noise_ because the fire was all around and the two dragons were grappling with bellows to shake the rocks and Murtagh staggered to his feet because Aidan, _get to Aidan._ He could barely see, felt towards Aidan's life source instead, and Lane yelled and threw magic at him but Murtagh hardly felt his ward deflect it, though his knees buckled and Thorn groaned –

All four combatants were linked on that mountaintop, Thorn and Murtagh and Lane and Kadi. Murtagh felt the steely slide of scales under his claws, a stabbing agony in his wing, and the dark-haired boy crouched in front of him shimmered gray-green in his vision. He bared his teeth, and felt bloodlust rise in his throat –

Stop, snarled Murtagh. _I am _human – I will not harm Aidan – I will not kill Lane –

And he had one brief moment of lucidity to see that Lane had placed Aidan against a rock, out of harm's way, before Kadi let out a vicious howl and Lane sprang at Murtagh.

Murtagh met him with clawed hands, dug his fingers into Lane's chest as the momentum toppled them over. They fought in a confusion of bone and muscle and raking nails, the rough stone scraping Murtagh's back, his lungs choked with hot ash. Teeth snapped at his throat and he yelled, thrusting his knees into Lane's gut, grabbing Lane's shoulders and rolling to slam him against the rock instead. Blood splattered Lane's face and when Murtagh shoved a hand up against Lane's windpipe – _don't kill, don't kill _– his fingers were streaked with crimson.

Lane choked, hands scrabbling frantically over Murtagh's arm. Murtagh tightened his grip with grim clarity, some of the dragon beginning to leave his mind. He didn't mean to kill, just incapacitate –

Digging his nails in, Lane dragged his fingers down Murtagh's forearm, carving red lines. Murtagh yelled in pain, involuntarily loosening his grip, and Lane seized the chance to twist his neck free and swing an uppercut.

His fist hit Murtagh's jaw with the shock of bone against bone. Murtagh grunted and retaliated instinctively. The crunch of Lane's nose under his fist was accompanied by a crimson spurt of blood.

_You promised!_ howled Lane. _You promised you wouldn't hurt me!_

_All I want is my son,_ growled Murtagh.

_NO!_ screamed Lane, both mentally and physically. His fingers clenched around a loose rock, but before he could bring it off the ground Murtagh pinned Lane's wrists, drove a knee into his chest.

"Please," Murtagh managed to say. Pain seared across his chest, his arm, his head, and something warm was trickling down the back of his neck. "This isn't _you,_ Lane. You know that. Just let me have Aidan."

Lane stared up at him, face grimed with ash and dirt and gore – and spat bloody saliva at Murtagh. He recoiled briefly, glared down at Lane.

"This. Isn't. You," he growled, digging his fingers into Lane's wrist for emphasis. "This is –"

From behind them burst Kadi's scream of agony and Thorn's triumphant roar. Lane yelled, his cry drowned by Kadi's, his back arching.

_THORN,_ growled Murtagh, not daring to take his eyes of Lane.

_He lives,_ snarled Thorn. _I assume you have things under control?_

_ Mostly._ Murtagh looked down at Lane, whose face was contorted in pain, and felt a fleeting twinge of sympathy. "Lane, Lane listen to me –"

Lane's eyes snapped open, golden and fey in the firelight. He was shaking under Murtagh, jaw set with determination. "I'd die first," he snapped.

Maybe if Murtagh just put him to sleep – he was about to pronounce the ancient word when Lane yelled, "No! No magic!" and the air rippled with the force of his spell.

It couldn't have been more obvious that Lane would funnel all his energy into enforcing that if he had too.

"Dammit, Lane," growled Murtagh. Blood trickled down his nose, in the corner of his eye, but he didn't have a free hand to wipe it away. "What do you want? The ancient language? _I will not harm Aidan Murtaghson._ There. Satisfied?"

Lane stared up at him, trembling violently. Murtagh didn't dare go near his mind but he thought he knew what was coming as Lane shook so hard the strands of his hair trembled and the drops of blood on his face shivered –

Fresh flames roared higher as Lane yelled, writhing in Murtagh's grip with sudden strength. Lane's hips bucked and what had to be his knee snapped up, striking Murtagh in the small of the back. Murtagh cried out, collapsing under the blow, stars of pains shooting up his spine. With a snarl Lane threw Murtagh off him –

Murtagh hit the ground, _hard._ He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, and suddenly there was a weight crouched over him and heavy breathing above him and something cold and sharp pressed against his throat –

There was no time for thought. Murtagh seized the hand near his throat, slicing his finger on the blade, and forced it as far away from himself as possible. Lane grunted, resisting, and Murtagh searched desperately with his other hand for leverage, anything –

He found Lane's hair and _yanked._ Lane yelped, tumbling forward, and Murtagh twisted the knife out of Lane's hand and rolled but Lane scrambled after him, clutching his shirt, fingernails scraping Murtagh's skin, and both were battling for the knife and all Murtagh could think was to keep that blade away from himself. Their fingers twisted over each other, Lane sank his teeth into Murtagh's arm and he yelled but retained his grip and twisted wildly –

The knife met an unexpected obstacle.

Murtagh froze as the magically strengthened blade sank to the hilt in Lane's chest.

The world went flat.

Lane whimpered, staring at the knife sticking out of his left pectoral. It had slid in _so_ easily, at a forty-five degree angle, the fabric around it blooming dark and moist…

Kadi screamed again as Lane toppled to the side like wet cloth. "Lane!" yelled Murtagh, voice cracking, and he flung himself to lean over him. "Goddammit Lane, no, _no –_" He instinctively pulled for his magic but Lane's spell blocked him –

"Lane, Lane, end the spell, please, end it or you'll die –" But Lane wasn't looking at him; he cried out, twisting, hands reaching behind him for Kadi.

Murtagh looked over to the dragons. Thorn was crouched over Kadi, his jaws dripping carmine, Kadi struggling to support himself on his front legs. He was limp from the wings down.

_Thorn…_ gaped Murtagh.

Kadi hissed, attempting to drag himself towards his dying Rider. Lane made a thin, pitiful sound and before Murtagh realized what he was doing he'd seized Lane under the armpits and was pulling him to Kadi. Faint high-pitched sounds were rasping in Lane's throat; he stretched a shaking hand out, fumbling blindly.

With a trembling croon, Kadi pushed his nose into Lane's hand. Lane was gasping for air, the knife in his chest twitching, but he managed a caress.

_Fuck – _Murtagh leaned over him, shaking – _no – no no fuck no –_ "Lane," he babbled, "I'm sorry, don't die, I didn't mean it – Lane –" He smoothed Lane's matted hair out of his eyes with a trembling hand.

Kadi moaned, his muzzle pressed against Lane's bloodied cheek. Lane choked and arched his back and his eyes rolled back and Murtagh yelled "NO!" His fingers dug into Lane's shoulder – this couldn't – _no_ –

And then all the tension drained out of Lane and he became limp and utterly still.

There was an awful, terrible silence. The roar of burning was little more than white noise.

Murtagh stared down at Lane, seeing all the lines and planes of his face anew – this – this was his son – this young man lying here –

Thorn padded over, a shifting mass of bone and muscle, and crouched next to Kadi. He looked over at Murtagh with those great red eyes and they were compassionate and wise and so, so deep…

_I'm sorry,_ said Thorn quietly.

Murtagh swallowed hard and sat back on his heels. He felt…raw. Scraped. Everything protective burnt off, leaving the tender smarting heart underneath. His whole body hurt, the wounds – head, arm, chest, finger – burning like a second fire.

_I can use magic now,_ he thought numbly.

Kadi was rigid, shaking, mouth stretched in a silent scream, mind a howling maelstrom of concentrated misery. Murtagh staggered to his feet – he ached all over, every joint felt loose and disconnected – and walked over to where Aidan was stirring vaguely in his charred wraps.

"It's all right," murmured Murtagh, scooping him up, a flicker of emotion returning to his heart. Aidan's skin was pink and inflamed in side patches; with a few words Murtagh smoothed it back to pearly white. As gently as possible Murtagh felt with magic for injuries, brushing Aidan's mind and body. He was fine. Dazed, and still recovering both from events and whatever mental hold Lane had had on him, but fine. Aidan fretted again and Murtagh held him close to his chest, kissed his hair and –

_Oh GOD._

A relief so profound it was painful swept through Murtagh. Whatever else had happened, he had Aidan and he was _safe…_

_Thorn, what – what do we do with Kadi?_ he asked, turning back.

Kadi was trembling even more violently, his back half still slumped and useless, his neck rigid and teeth bared. Thorn crouched warily beside him, wings slightly extended.

Murtagh swallowed and held Aidan closer. _Will he snap?_

Thorn didn't answer, just looked at Murtagh with hollow weary eyes. Nodding, Murtagh turned away and forced himself to look at Lane's body.

He lay on his back, knees half-curled, clothes ripped and bloody and blackened. Under all the soot and gore, his face was slack.

_That's my knife,_ Murtagh realized, with a dull twinge of pain. _That's the knife I brought with me. He must have grabbed it from my boot. _

Kneeling, he shifted Aidan to one arm, and with the other hand reached to close Lane's eyes completely. But Kadi growled and snapped, fangs inches from Murtagh's fingers, and Murtagh flinched back.

_Let me touch him,_ he said gently.

_No,_ growled Kadi. His eyes were wide, maddened, pupils the thinnest of slits.

_Let me heal you,_ offered Murtagh. Broken spine – tricky, but not impossible.

_NO._

_ Please. Let me._

_ Why? My other half is gone. _When Murtagh didn't answer, he snarled, _What's the POINT?_

Nothing. He was right. Life without your soulmate… Murtagh choked, blinking his stinging eyes. _What can I do, then?_

_ Leave us,_ hissed Kadi.

Murtagh looked over at Thorn. Their shared feelings – pain at Lane's death, sympathy for Kadi – linked them and Murtagh had to take a second to find his breath. _What do we do?_

_ We should go,_ said Thorn, soft and sad. _Daerys and Allingr are close. They can watch Kadi. _

Murtagh stepped back, Aidan curled against him, a lump in his throat as he watched Kadi curl a protective neck around Lane's body. _And will – will they heal him?_

Thorn spoke even more gently. _I don't think they'll need to._

_ I – _It took Murtagh a second. _No! Thorn, he can't – we can't let him – _

_ It's his choice._

_ Did you say that when I was making that 'choice?' No. Because it's not a fucking rational choice, is it, it's –_

_ We will be with him. _The dragon that spoke was female, unknown to Murtagh – he guessed this was Daerys. _Do not worry, ebrithil. We will not leave him alone; we will protect him from himself. And if he wants healing, our Riders will help. _

_ And what about – about Lane?_

_ Return to Ellesmera. _This was a Rider. _We will contact you when Kadi is more…amenable. _Underneath the respect, there was a strong undercurrent of sympathy. _Rest assured, we will protect his body as well._

_ Thank you._

Ellesmera. Where Aedela was, and…

Oh gods. Murtagh didn't think he could take anymore.

_It's all right,_ said Thorn. _I'm here. I'll always be here._

And thank the stars for that.


	15. And I'd die a thousand deaths

When Murtagh walked over to where Aedela was sitting in bed in a little wooded alcove – when he walked over carrying Aidan, who'd finally cried himself to sleep – when he walked over after washing off the blood and soot and healing the wounds of the body – Aedela went white. Whiter than the sheets she was sitting on. Only the half-healed traces of burns on her face retained a hint of color. And her eyes turned wide and faint and cold.

"Where's Lane?" she whispered.

Murtagh just looked at her. He couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't find anything within left. All he knew was that he hurt inside, for her, for him, for Aidan, Lane…

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Aedela continued to stare at him, lips trembling. With a sudden swiftness she extended her arms, fingers reaching long and rigid for Aidan.

Unlocking his limbs, Murtagh stepped forward and gently deposited Aidan in her arms. Aedela seemed to crumple around the baby, curving her back, bending her neck, dropping her head to press her lips to the top of Aidan's head. Her shoulders were shaking.

Murtagh stood there, powerless to do anything but watch. Aedela's hair had parted to reveal the nape of her neck, pale and vulnerable, and he wanted to touch it, stroke it, kiss it, but he couldn't do anything – couldn't break the wall.

Aedela never raised her head – never looked up at him. She just continued to hug Aidan close to her and cry silently, stroking a slim finger along Aidan's face. Finally, Murtagh started to leave – to back away silently. But Thorn stopped him.

_No,_ said Thorn gently.

_I can't._

_Talk to her._

_ I can't – _

_ You must. Or you never will again._

Swallowing hard, Murtagh stepped forward again. Aedela finally lifted her gaze, looking at Murtagh with great wet eyes. There was something in them – something fierce. Murtagh hoped desperately it wasn't hate.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"I know." Her voice was inflectionless.

They looked at each other in silence for a while. Murtagh saw every detail of her face in perfect clarity, the fine hairs, the tiny pores, the little lines on her lower lip…

"You promised," she said at last.

"It was an accident." Murtagh's words sounded weak and hollow even to him. He hesitated, added, "He was trying to kill me –"

"He wasn't _himself!_" Aedela's voice shrieked out, harsh with pain, making Aidan start and wail. "You knew that, you know he didn't mean to, you knew he wasn't in his right mind –"

"I know!" Every word of hers raked over him, creating fresh hurt. "He had a knife and he was going to use it, I was trying to keep it away from me and – and –"

Murtagh's voice shook and cracked and he couldn't continue. He could feel the pain bubbling up inside him and had to clamp his lips together to keep a sob from bursting out.

"I didn't mean to," he managed to say.

Aedela shook her head, a tear trickling silver down her cheek. "Just go," she said.

"But –"

"_Go_."

Numb and aching, Murtagh began to drift backwards. Aedela was looking to Aidan again, hushing him, soothing him. Not until Murtagh reached the entrance to the alcove did he speak again.

"Do you hate me?"

His voice shook worse than his hands.

Aedela raised her head, her profile snowy against the dark green and brown. "I think I might," she said slowly. "For now."

"Right." Murtagh swallowed, sniffed, nodded – he had to get out of here before he fell apart. "O-okay." Something inside him spasmed like a bird with a broken wing…

Lowering her head, Aedela pressed her face to Aidan's wispy hair. Murtagh swallowed again, choking, and backed out. He couldn't anymore – he couldn't – no more –

_Come here,_ said Thorn. Tenderly.

Murtagh stifled a sob and stumbled over to where Thorn was curled. He could barely see for the tears blurring his vision but a warm and leathery wing wrapped around him and he was pulled against Thorn's scales and Murtagh was _done._ Just _done._ He went limp against Thorn and let the wing pull him tight against Thorn's side and part of him still wanted to cry but he had nothing left, nothing at all, and so he let Thorn hold him until he could melt away into the warm darkness.


	16. Alll for the sake of love

_For those following this story, some reformatting has happened - Ch. 15 has been combined with Ch. 14, and a new Ch. 15 added, so unless you want to be confused you should probably go back and read Ch. 15 before reading this chapter XD_

With fall in Ellesmera, the leaves darkened to a glossy greenish-black or turned bronze. The burnt areas, once great swathes of black running stark through the forest like ugly scars, were now half-hidden under new growth of vines and brush. The nights grew chill; but Murtagh, who had for a long while been sleeping curled up with Thorn, barely noticed. Instead he was waiting, waiting for Aedela to return. And finally one night, three months after Lane's death, she ghosted over to where Murtagh lay in the curve of Thorn's neck, settled herself against Murtagh with Aidan in her arms, and closed her eyes.

Murtagh held himself still, breath fluttering in his chest. "I'm glad you're back," he managed to say.

At first Aedela didn't respond, and Murtagh was terrified he'd said the wrong thing. But then she nestled her head against his shoulder and said, in a moth-soft voice, "I missed you."

"I missed you too," whispered Murtagh.

She sighed, getting closer to him, and Murtagh rested his cheek against her hair. Aidan burbled in his sleep and Thorn curled himself tighter around them. And in the morning they woke as one, and two days later they returned to the Academy. And every year after that, just at the turn of fall, they would return to Ellesmera and visit a certain glade in the woods. Here in this hollow stood a tall white stone, a gravemarker guarded by a pale green dragon with a mended spine. This dragon, silent, stayed by the stone day and night, through all weather, never straying far even to eat. And the dragon would stay for thousands of years, as trees grew and died and empires rose and fell, and even when the stone itself had crumbled into dust the dragon remained, until one day he finally lay down and joined the heartmate who had left him so long ago.

THE END


	17. Epilogue

The Eldunari were old dragons, powerful and mighty, the smallest half as big again as Thorn and yet they all cowered before his righteous red rage.

_There are a lot of dragons here who need to pay,_ he snarled. _HINT: I'M NOT ONE._

* * *

_And it's the end, finally! Thanks so much to everyone who commented on this work, your critiques and feedback really mean a lot :)  
_


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